The Coca-Cola Murders

                hello ~ * 
              please know that the prologue (offensive as it is but i felt i had to do it) is *supposed* to be confusing and awkward psycho-babble.  it is actually text filtered through a psychotic or perhaps demonically possessed mind (.... or who knows?  a vampire?) ..  on with the show: ........

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                                          prologue
     
           
      a knife in his hand…. .  so sharp.. enough to cut the throats of children….. even in their sleep….  sleep, child, sleep . .
    we would find them here, lying.. in pools of blood.. warm pools of blood.. my child . . .
      he poured the coca-cola out on the driveway/the sidewalk..
        down the driveway/down the sidewalk..
    down the drain/sewer/gutter… smiles.. grins. watches it go..
    ‘sweeet.. .sweet.. and morrrre..’ . .
  was a demon he certainly believed he would like to become so…
  he smiled.. because the rust on the knife left nothing to hide…    jagged…  like the teeth of rats,  and flies, mortal rats…
    the footfalls that fall by night in your basement
    in your cellar after dark .. . .    long after the lights had gone out . . .
       
                                              CHAPTER 1

    Summer began to set it’s pale violet afternoon glow over the farmhouse at 1189 Avesbruck Lane.
  It began to sweep it’s dark curtains for the nightly sonata that would play over the small sleepy town tonight of Tainton Downs, South Carolina.
  There was not an adult still outdoors, and only a few children to be heard playing … in the yards, and woods, and the dirty adjoining roads that formed the quiet little town that was Tainton Downs.
  This particular rustic farmhouse had been built in the year 1812 and had been largely restored.
    candles and lanterns, and violet lights hung all around and swayed silently . . .
  on the porch . . .  and over the front door . . .
        chimes sang sweetly .. softly… all night long .. to the grass and the leaves . .
          and the wind that swept along those leaves . . . 
  Inside this historic landmark sat Jack and Karen Diane, a fairly young couple who were soon to be celebrating their eighth year of marriage.

  “First off…  I don’t like having the last name of Diane!!” Karen’s husband whimpered pathetically, standing up from his oaken wood chair and slamming one particularly wimpy looking clenched fist down on the parlour room table at which he had been sitting.
  Jack Diane had been perfectly at ease with himself only a moment ago.
  ”Honey.. settle down,” karen whispered softly.
  His dell computer monitor rattled and the tall violet candle fell over and rolled to the floor.
  ”Don’t tell me to goddamn settle down! .. I have had this last name my whole life.. it was okay before john mellencamp came out with “Jack and Diane!!” now it’s just plain goddamn ridiculous!..”
  She put one hand on his shoulder.. “Darling….  there’s nothing to be ashamed of  .... John Cougar is a wonderful, talented, gifted musician!”
  ”Just….. ”  He turned around from the sun-chequered window he had been facing. “just call the goddamn children to come back in … it’s almost supper time. ”
  He knew of course that SHE knew it was supper time.. as she had been in the kitchen all afternoon preparing spaghetti.
  “Dinner..” the look ..  “it’s ‘dinner’, Jack.”
  He looked back and made eye contact with her.
  There was that boundlessly adorable raised-eyebrow almost cartoon-like:  “Well?” . . . look that he always loved to see from her even in his most negative of moods.
  He slowly smiled..
  ”Hey Doll.”
  She smiled back.
  Karen loved Jack with all her heart and soul. She really did.
But.. sometimes he could be . . . well . . . such an ass.
  They kissed each other softly once on the nose . . .
  “I am going outside now.. will you please try to relax, about your name?  bee bee cakes?? .. don’t worry about it .. Miss Karen will (handjob you to sleep) and make it allll betterrrr tonighttt! smoochy-mumpkins !  ” 
    She kissed him again on the mouth. 
  His five o’clock shadow stubble scratched her.  ”Ow.” 
  he loved it when she acted like a crazy person.  Her wild side.
  “Bring it to me little girl!”
  He slapped her on the ass as she turned to go.
 
  Karen hummed a little tune to herself and turned the doorknob of the side door that led from the dining room to the three little wooden steps just outside, where she knew Robert and Dia would be playing. She slowly pinned her hair up with a vintage ash-wood hairpin. (she was unaware that there was incidentally the decaying body of a dead stray cat under the steps)
 
  ”Robert? ? ” smile . ” Diaaaaa ? ”
  Her skirt fluttered a little in the breeze as she walked.
  She hoped that Dia had not brought another one of the little porcelain victorian dolls outside with her again today like she had done yesterday. 

  Her holey nylons showed for a moment as the wind carried her skirt up a little like a kite. With her less than perfect teeth, slightly dimpled chin, and the barely visible intricate lace pattern of her bra showing unintentionally through the sheer white material of her blouse, she was really quite a sight to see. Not bad at all for a domesticated 35-year mother of two who had never been on the cover of a Vogue or Cosmopolitan magazine.

  Ah. Just as expected. She could hear their voices around the corner, behind the house.

  Rob and Dia Diane were playing in the grass where the door that led in to the first floor bathroom (of all places) was located and seemed to be enjoying themselves. They had one of Dia’s (non-Victorian) dolls and Dia was trying to show Rob how it had a very human female anatomy. 
  Karen stood there watching them play for a long time, treasuring their innocence . . .
  How few years until dia would begin wearing slutty black microskirts on dates with felonious drug addicts, and piercing herself in god awful horrible ways? 
I hope that trend comes to an end by the time i see her hit puberty Karen thought to herself.

  Finally jack came outside (after putting his calculator and pencil down on the table by his Windows Vista).
  ”Cornflaaaake!” he grinned.. walking awkwardly over the grass. “Where are yooou??”
  Dia did not hear him.
  She held the doll at an awkward tug of war angle with Robert and laughed at the dirt on his nose. ”Hahahahaha!  Rob is the dirty man!”
  ”Where is daddys little poo poo muffffffinnnnn??”  smile

  Suddenly Jack stopped dead in his tracks.

  The hem/back of Karens skirt was slowly beginning to blow upwards again. It slowly slid past where her pantyhose changed in hue from dark to utter black . .  up around her ass . . .
  Jack was suddenly overcome with horniness. That ol’ demon began stirring in his loins again. He felt that dizzying heat that only Karen could give him, sometimes when she wasn’t even trying or even aware of it.
  ”Mmmmmmmm . . . “

  Sometimes Jack couldn’t believe that a wimpy-looking, four-eyed meager-salary-earning, cow-lick-sporting, transplanted-from-Ohio accountant like himself himself ended up with such a diamond in the rough like Karen.
  ”Miss Anne” he called out. 
  She somehow didn’t hear him.. seeming oblivious to everything in the world just now except the children. (Anne was the last name she still carried that first night he had met her at a rain-streaked Mcdonalds off of the Interstate 90 exit in Mentor, Ohio…)
  ”cheap peeks, nice cheeks” Jack chucked out behind her in his Groucho Marx-meets-King Kong-meets-Dagwood (if he talked) cartoon voice.
  ”Oh my GOD!!”  hand to heart “Jack… “Jack you scared the SHIT out of me!!” 
  “What…...  you couldn’t hear me calling for Dia?? . . . 
  Or walking through the grass???  I’m a NINJA, baby!!” 
  He picked her up and swung her around once … in his arms….. all five-foot eight of her… 
and with her moderately slender but defined figure he became dizzy from his own manuevre and fell down on his ass like a wuss in the grass …
  Damn Karen was beautiful.
  Outlined by the late afternoon sun..
  The by now dark maroon glow of the sun cascaded down over the field of the farm . . .  and highlighted her sparkling auburn hair . . .     

    (TEXT HERE UNDER REVISION, JUMP AHEAD TO END OF CHAPTER 1)
   
  but something other than the darkness was calling it’s forces out to play around the small town of Tainton Downs
  something besides the night.. something beyond evil…
  something that should be dead . . or undead…
  something beyond the grocery store.. and the dusty old shoppes
  and the creek and the intertwining woods .
  and all the sunsets and the sundowns and the rain on the street
  and scarecrows and alleyways of the one remotely urban part of town. .

                        (CHAPTER 1 ENDS HERE)

      Ether.. her first-born/karens first born..
      died of crib death just before her and jacks  first wedding anniversary.

          kitchen scene later on
        ”It’s what’s for dinner, Jack!”  smile …. leaning back against the counter..  her naked breasts jutting from her brassiere…

              (you knew THAT had to happen but that’s for another chapter) :)
     

          karen remembered it now.. the rape/the night/scene/flashbacks/nightmares.. as it happened….  that night/
pointing th stick to her breast.. a blade touched karens neck softly.  ’don’t….. ’
    ’do..’ *g..  in the alley.. her short black skirt..
    the rapists hands touched her sweater ,  breasts . . (to be worked out)

        1)a knife in his hand…. .  so sharp.. enough to cut the throats of children….. even in their sleep….  sleep, child, sleep . .
  (6)we would find them here, lying.. in pools of blood.. warm pools of blood.. my child . . .
      (10)he poured the coca-cola out on the driveway/the sidewalk..
        down the driveway/down the sidewalk..
    down the drain/sewer/gutter… smiles.. grins. watches it go..
    ‘sweeet.. .sweet.. and morrrre..’ . .
  was a demon he certainly believed he would like to become so…
  he smiled.. because the rust on the knife left nothing to hide…    jagged…  like the teeth of rats,  and flies, mortal rats…
    the footfalls that fall by night in your basement
    in your cellar after dark .. . .    long after the lights had gone out . . .